


bliss

by lostinsanity



Category: One Direction
Genre: Angst, Comforting, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non AU, Reality, Rumors, Self Confidence Issues, comforting!louis, i think im done with tags i hate tags, insecure!harry, media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:58:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinsanity/pseuds/lostinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry styles, ladies' man -- that's all he ever hears nowadays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bliss

**Author's Note:**

> i originally had written this a while ago, but i reread it and decided it was ao3-worthy and relevant, because people are being mean to the little cupcake again. :)

harry comes home with a smile on his face, but there are paps outside his door shoving cameras in his face and screaming and his smile drops.

one of them is holding out a magazine to him and it’s got his face on the cover and he takes it.

once safely inside, he settles down into the sofa and his heart is racing as he opens it up and scans the pages.

‘410 hook-ups in one year,’ the title reads.

he feels his nose start to burn as he wonders who the hell made up all these lies about him.

cara delevigne, rihanna, caggie, jillian, taylor swift

he knows the names from around, half of them he’s met at parties and said hello to and barely even touched them at all.

he tries to think hard about what he did, why people think he’s this kind of person, why they think he’s the type of guy to fuck a woman and toss her to the side as if she’s nothing. he wonders why.

he can’t figure out why… except he knows how much those magazines were paid.

he knows how much money people high up on the executive branch forked over in order for his face to be plastered across the covers of magazines and newspapers and news sites and gossip sites alike.

‘harry styles, the ladies’ man,’ he reads, always, everywhere.

‘i like girls my own age too,’ one quotes him. he doesn’t even remember _saying_ that.

he feels his heart drop as he reads on and on and on. why does he deserve this? why do they think he’s the one who hooks up and leaves? he wants affection, he needs attention. not pussy. just love. he’s the kind of guy that would appreciate french toast in the morning and an afternoon cuddle… not a midnight fuck that would mean nothing in the morning.

he sniffles softly, telling himself he’s not going to cry, even rolling his eyes at himself because he knows he’s being such a _baby_ about this all. but the thing is, the reason behind it all is what drives him insane.

he knows that fame comes with rumors and conspiracies and things that are all sorts of untrue, and he wouldn’t mind… if only the reason behind it wasn’t trying to tear him apart, wasn’t something that was trying to pull him from the one person he loves just because he _loves_ him, and that’s what hurts so bad.

it’s stupid really, that he can’t love louis. so many people know and yet he just _can’t._ because he’s _harry styles, the ladies’ man_ , with no time for real love and _certainly_ not gay and _of course_ not with his best friend.

he runs his hand over his face and tosses the magazine aside, not caring where it goes, because he can feel the tears pricking at the back of his eyelids and he wonders why louis can’t be here right now. but then he remembers—they aren’t allowed to come home at the same time, because _god forbid_ someone finds out they live together.

the whole world would end then, wouldn’t it?

harry sits and waits, counting the seconds, counting down until louis comes home, and it’s too long, it feels like a millennium. he blankly wonders where louis is. why it’s taken him so long to come home.

for a moment he’s terrified…what if he’s hurt? what if he got in an accident coming home or what if he slipped down some stairs and fell or what if he drove into a lake or what if.

harry is holding fists so tight that his nails press into his palms and leave pink crescents there by the time louis comes back home, and he’s shaking.

‘louis,’ he sucks in, all one fluid movement, all one breath.

louis looks up, harry’s back is to him, head bowed, and louis _knows._

‘harry, are you alright?’ he asks softly, placing his keys on the table. ‘i’m sorry, i had to be with eleanor—’

harry tunes it all out. because that’s what cuts the most.

_her._

it’s not like he doesn’t like eleanor, no, she’s a sweetheart.

it’s just—

she’s keeping louis away from harry, she’s the one that started all the rivalry and cut off all those precious moments between him and louis and she’s the one, she’s the one that started it all— _biggest load of bullshit_ —and.

harry doesn’t even know what to do because by the time louis comes up behind him he’s choking on sobs he’s trying desperately to keep at bay.

‘harry?’ louis asks gently, placing his hand on harry’s shoulder. ‘what are you—’

harry jumps because he doesn’t realize his nails have pressed in deep enough to draw blood. he looks up with wide eyes, pupils dilated, glazed with tears, and louis sucks in a breath when he sees him.

‘louis i’m sorry,’ harry says softly. ‘i’m so sorry.’

louis sits down beside harry and pulls harry into his shoulder and uses his thumb to brush the hair from his face. ‘baby, tell me what’s wrong,’ he whispers, and his words make harry close his eyes and a tear leaks out, unwanted.

louis presses his lips to it, kisses it away.

‘louis, i can’t do this anymore,’ harry tries, but it comes out so quietly he can’t even hear it. he tries again, but all that comes out is a sob, a broken sob.

louis snakes his arms around harry and pulls him close, lips in his hair. ‘baby, it’s going to be okay, whatever it is,’ he says.

harry wishes he could say the same, but he knows it’s just _not_ going to be okay, it just isn’t.

because louis is his and he’s louis’ but, he’s not allowed to be, they’re not allowed to be each other’s.

‘i hate it,’ harry says now, finding his voice. ‘i hate her, and i hate everyone who’s in charge of us, and i hate everyone who believes that you’re with her. i hate all the girls everyone somehow ties me to. i hate going out with anyone that’s even a female.

‘louis, do you remember the last time i went out by myself with a girl?

‘do you remember the last time i ever went anywhere _without_ one of the boys or grimmy?’

louis thinks back. he can’t remember.

‘it’s things like that, louis,’ harry says, burrowing his face into louis’ shoulder and pointing. louis’ eyes follow harry’s finger and land on the magazine article that’s laying on the floor.

louis just holds harry tighter, trying hard not to let tears escape himself, because even from the perch on the sofa he can read the headline—he can see harry’s face on the cover—he can feel harry’s wet sobs on his shoulder.

‘harry, you know it’s alright,’ he attempts to console him, but they both know it’s empty. ‘it’s all lies, made up by someone who was paid to—’

‘they believe those lies, louis,’ harry says, and that’s all he needs to say, because louis knows they believe the lies.

‘i don’t know why they chose me to do it, why am i their stupid bunny, why am i their guinea pig, louis?’ harry asks after a weighted silence.

louis thinks hard, thinks of what to say to him, digs deep into his mind and heart and bones of the right words, but what tumbles out is something he didn’t even plan on. ‘you’re the strongest of us, harry,’ louis says to him. ‘they picked you because you’re the strongest.’

harry sits up straighter, peers up into louis’ ocean eyes. ‘but you’re the one—louis, you’re the one that has to lie about us, the one that has to—be with _her_ , you have to tell everyone that—that you don’t love me, and that—i wouldn’t be able to do that, louis,’ harry gasps out, throat constricting.

louis sits back, rubs circles into harry’s back. ‘i guess we’re both strong in our own way,’ louis says softly, so softly that harry can barely hear it, but he does hear it.

‘louis, why can’t i love you?’ harry mumbles, tears subsiding now.

louis looks down at him, at his perfect chocolate curls and cherub face with deep dimples and perfectly red-rimmed eyes and says, ‘you can love me.’

harry knows what louis means, but he’s not sure that louis knows what he means. ‘i mean.. why won’t they let me love you? why am i so bad? what did i do to become the scapegoat? what did _we_ do? it’s not even our faults, louis. we didn’t choose this.’

louis nods. ‘i know, but think—once this is over with—think of the stories we’ll be able to tell our kids, y’know?’

harry feels his heart swell. ‘our kids,’ he repeats, and he likes the way it sounds in his mouth. ‘our kids.’

louis nods again, propping harry up so that he can look him in the eye. ‘yes harry, our kids. i swear to god, the second we can, we’re getting married, and we’re having kids, and they’re going to go to school and make friends and bring their friends over and do all normal things because we’re normal, no matter what people say. we’re just two people in love, and there’s nothing wrong with that, do you understand me?’

‘i know,’ harry says. ‘i’m sorry for this—’

‘don’t you ever say you’re sorry for loving me,’ louis tells him. ‘don’t ever be sorry for that.’

‘i want to show you i love you,’ harry says quietly, looking up through his lashes. ‘i want to show them i love you. i want everyone to know i love you, louis. because i love the fuck out of you.’

louis leans down to press a kiss to harry’s head, right by his earlobe, because he knows how sensitive harry is there, and he knows how it calms harry down.

‘you will, baby,’ louis says softly, stroking his hand through harry’s hair, blinking hard, taking a deep breath in. ‘i love you and you know that i do, we just have to work through this, it’s going to pass. but it had to get worse before it gets better. you know i’m always going to be here, you know that.’

harry nods, pushing himself into louis’ lap, laying his head down. ‘i just want to sleep, louis. wanna sleep and never wake up, not till it’s over.’

‘haz, baby, you’re stronger than that,’ louis mumbles, still combing through harry’s curls with his fingers. ‘come on, stand next to me, fight with me. you can do this, i’ll hold your hand through it all.’

harry blinks, eyes heavy, throat tight. ‘i wish i could hold your hand, louis…’ he whispers, hoping louis can’t hear it, but unfortunately he does.

 ’you can, harry. the next time we go somewhere, i swear to god—’ he has to take a moment, take a moment to clear his throat so that he doesn’t sound so choked up, because harry needs someone strong right now and louis _can’t_ be strong if he’s crying. ‘i swear to god, next time we go somewhere, you can hold me hand. i don’t give a fuck what anyone tells us to do. anything to make you happy, baby. anything.’

‘but what about—’ harry begins, but louis cuts him off.

‘about nothing, you’re mine and i’m yours. not eleanors, not any of those girls you don’t even know. yours. and mine. we’re each other’s, harry. it’s a tiny price to pay to make you happy. don’t think about it. there’s a rainbow coming soon, you know.’

louis can feel harry smiling, it emanates around him. ‘yeah, guess so,’ harry affirms, and there’s a silent closure there, something that just signals end of topic, something that screams ‘it’s going to be okay now.’

harry knows it’s going to be okay now.

410 girls — nothing. eleanor — nothing. nick – nothing.

all that he has to worry about is louis. his louis.

harry nestles himself deeper into louis’ side, head cradled on his lap, with louis’ hand stroking harry’s side, and harry falls asleep in bliss.


End file.
